


Trixkaidekaphobia

by clgfanfic



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people hate Friday the 13th</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trixkaidekaphobia

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Our Favorite Things #13 and later in BAB: Special Collection #2 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

"Hey, Nick!  Come on, we're gonna be late!"

Nick Ryder ignored the annoyed voice of his partner and burrowed deeper under his covers.  The sound of feet pounding down the steps leading to the stateroom echoed through the small space, each beat curling Nick into a tighter ball.

_No, no, no, I am not going.  I'm not leaving this bed no matter what he says!_

"Nick?"

"I'm _not_ going!" was the muffled growl from under the covers.

Cody leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and grinned.  "Come on, Nick, you're not–"

"I'm _not_ going," the muffled voice interrupted.  "I'm not doing anything.  I'm not even getting out of this bunk until tomorrow!"

Cody smoothed his moustache to keep from giggling.  "Nick, you're being unreasonable."

The edge of the covers snapped down and two flashing blue eyes peered out, topped by ruffled dark-brown hair.  Nick looked all of two years old, and he was acting like it too as far as Cody was concerned.  Still, it was hard not to appreciate Nick's position.

"Unreasonable?" Nick repeated.  " _Unreasonable?_ "

He had to play this straight, convince Nick it was all in his mind.  "Absolutely. Look, it's just another day.  Nothing–"

"What happened in 1970, Cody?" Nick demanded, drawing the covers down past his chin.  "What?  Come on, tell me."

Cody sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.  "How many other guys got shot down in Vietnam, Nick?"

"That's not the point!"

"Yes, it is!  Statistically, you were just–"

"That's the only time I was shot down, Cody.  The _only_ time!"

"But–"

"What happened in '73?"

"That escaped bull–"

"And in '76?"

"Yeah, I know, the fireworks–"

"And '79?"

Cody's hands flew up in surrender.  "Okay, so your track record is a little strange–"

"A _little_ strange?  '79 it was snakes, and in '82 that wacko who kept taking potshots at me, and now it's back, and you're _not_ getting me out of this bed!  It's _not_ gonna happen."

"All right, all right!  Fine!" Cody snapped back.  "You just lie there and stare at the ceiling and Murray and I'll track down Barocic by ourselves."

"Cody, that guy's crazy, don't you take Murray into that bar!"

Allen took a step closer to the bed, contemplating dragging his friend out of his cocoon by his heels.  "I have to have some kind of backup, Nick, and you're not going to be there!"

"Do it tomorrow!  _Tomorrow_ I'll go with you."

"He's supposed to ship out tomorrow on that merchant ship!" Cody countered.  "If we don't get him today we don't get him at all, and that means no slip rent!"

Nick rolled his head, trying to work out the tension knot that was steadily growing at the base of his skull.  "We're _not_ bail bondsmen.  Why did we even take this case?"

"Because we need the money," Cody replied as calmly as he could.  "Look, I'm going to go do what needs to be done so we have a place to live.  If you want to hide in here like some—some _kid_ , fine."

Cody turned sharply on his heel and stalked out of the small stateroom.  Nick watched him go, then dropped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.  His head rolled from side to side and he groaned before bellowing, "Cody!  Just a minute, I've gotta get dressed!"

_It's gonna happen.  I can feel it.  It's back._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody stomped into the main salon and Murray looked up from his laptop computer.  "Is Nick coming?"

"I don't think so."

"Cody!  Just a minute, I've gotta get dressed!" echoed up from below.

Allen smiled.  "Well, well, well.  I guess he is."

Murray shook his head and looked confused.  "I never thought of Nick as the superstitious sort."

"He's not," Cody stated.  "I mean, not normally.  It's just this one exception."

"Strange," Murray mused.  "Maybe he should see someone."

Cody grinned and shook his head.  "I'm not going to make that suggestion," he said as a series of muttered curses echoed up from below as Nick rummaged for his clothes.

Murray considered for a moment, then nodded his agreement.  "You have a point."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick threw back the covers and forced himself out of the bunk.  He stomped barefoot to the small bathroom and turned on the shower, then pulled open drawers and grabbed his clothes before stepping out of his briefs and into the tiny stall.

"Ahh!" he screamed, fumbling for the faucets, his fingers slipping off twice before he could get the icy water turned off.  "Cody!" he bellowed.

His teeth clenched, his chest rising and falling in an angry pant, Nick listened to his partner descend the stairs again.

"Yeah, Nick?" Cody called, sounding decidedly innocent.

"What the hell happened to the hot water?!" Nick demanded from behind the smiley-face shower curtain – Murray's contribution to he and Cody having a nice day – every day.  For a brief moment Nick contemplated reaching out and squeezing the smile off each of the annoying yellow faces.

"Oh, boy.  I'm really sorry, Nick, I _completely_ forgot.  Murray's running some kind of experiment and he's had the hot water on for…"  There was a pause while Cody checked his watch.  "A few hours now, I guess."

"A few hours?!  Great.  That's just great," Nick muttered.          "Uh, do you think you could speed this up a little?  I don't want to miss Barocic, you know?"

"I'll be right there," the dark-haired man hissed through clenched teeth.

Cody nodded and retreated before his partner bolted from the shower and strangled him where he stood.  _He definitely got up on the wrong side of the bunk this morning…_

Nick reached out and snatched his towel off the sink where he'd tossed it.  One end of the material wrapped around the cold water knob, twisted, turning the water on and wetting the corner of the towel.  The heavier, wet material slapped against Nick's abdomen and he yelped.

Grabbing the end, he wrung the water out, then rubbed himself dry, muttering constantly under his breath.  The task done, he stepped out and climbed into clean BVDs, then pulled on socks, jeans, and a purple t-shirt.  With that done, he walked back to his unmade bunk and sat down to pull on his cross-trainers.

Standing, Nick grabbed his wallet off the small nightstand and slipped it into his rear pocket, then opened the drawer and pulled out his 9mm, checking it quickly to be sure it was loaded and that the safety was on before he slipped it under the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back and pulled the t-shirt over it.  With Barocic you couldn't be too careful.

Stalking up the stairs, he ignored Cody and Murray who stood in the salon, waiting for him, heading immediately up the second set of stairs to the wheelhouse before the pair caught up with him.

Cody glanced outside at the suddenly black sky and frowned.  It hadn't looked like that fifteen minutes ago.  "Uh, Nick, I think you better take a–"

Ryder turned.  "Cody, I said I'm going, and I'm going, but let's just get this over with, okay?"

"Sure, Nick, but–"

Ryder stepped outside as the first peal of thunder rumbled over Pier 56.  Nick's shoulders shot up with the crash and he instinctively ducked to escape the unseen threat.  Then the rain hit, dropping in sheets.

Nick was still hunched over, but it did little to protect him from the downpour as he bolted back to the wheelhouse.

"Wow!" Murray cried excitedly.  "This is boss!  A thunderstorm!  We _never_ get thunderstorms!"

Nick burst into the wheelhouse.  "Did you see that?!" he demanded of Cody.  "I was almost killed!"

Murray looked startled.  "Killed?"  He thought for a moment, then shook his head.  "Oh, I don't think so, Nick.  Statistically speaking, the number of people killed by lightning strikes is–"

"Never mind!" Nick snapped.  He reached over and grabbed his rain jacket off the wall peg and pulled it on.

Cody led the way back outside, glancing up as the rain slowed, then stopped.

Nick joined him, glancing suspiciously at the already clearing sky.  "I never should've let you talk me into this."

"Look, Nick, if you want to stay, Murray and I–"

"Let's just get this over with," the dark-haired man grumbled, heading for the slip.

The threesome climbed off the boat and started toward the quay, Murray veering off suddenly.  "Hey, guys, look!" he called.

Nick and Cody stopped, exchanging brief indulgent glances before turning back to join the thin computer expert, who was kneeling, watching something in the water.

Nick looked briefly at the surface of the water, not seeing anything.  "Murray, we don't have time–"

A dolphin broke the surface, spitting water at the three men.  The stream caught Nick in the chest, soaking his t-shirt between the open halves of the raincoat.  The detective jumped back as the animal cackled happily.

"Hello!" Murray called to the dolphin, then glanced up at Nick and Cody.  "It looks a little like Cupcake, don't you think?"  He turned back to the dolphin as it sent another water stream in Nick's direction.  "Is that you, Cupcake?"

Nick jumped back and ducked, trying to avoid a second soaking.  His ankle buckled and he fell, hitting the edge of the slip and sliding into the water with a loud _ker-plunk_!

"Nick?" Cody called as he partner surfaced.  "Nick, are you all right?"

Blue eyes blazed under dripping bangs.  "No, I'm not all right!  That blasted fish tried to–"

"Dolphins are mammals, Nick," Murray interrupted.

"Fish, mammal, what difference does it make!" Nick snapped as he pulled himself out of the water.

"Well, actually–"

"Never mind!"

Murray stood, looking hurt.

Nick stood, dripping and met Murray's troubled gaze.  "Look, Murray, I'm sorry, okay?"

The Boz nodded, the first hint of a smile playing on his lips as he studied his sodden partner.

Nick turned to Cody.  "You see?  You see what's happening?  Go, go on, go without me; I'm going back to bed!"

Nick stalked back toward the _Riptide_ his shoes squeaking and squishing with each step.

"Come on, Nick!" Cody called.  "It was just an accident!"

"It's okay, Cody," Murray said, then shifted into a hopelessly bad _Casa Blanca_ voice, "We can handle this clown.  We'll take 'im, _mano a mano_."

Cody flashed a thin smile, hoping Murray was right and that Nick survived the day.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick climbed back on board the _Riptide_ , still dripping.  Looking down at his sodden clothes, he shook his head.  He never should've let Cody talk him out of his bunk.  Never.  He'd go in, dry off and go back to bed.  And stay there until the day was over.

He nodded, satisfied with the plan, then reconsidered.  Maybe he'd dry off, then eat first.  _Then_ go back to bed.

A loud _squawk_ sounded as their resident pesky pelican passed by overhead.  Nick's eyes narrowed, anticipating the next disaster a moment before he felt the impact on his shoulder.  His eyes dropped closed briefly as he silently counted to ten, letting the almost overwhelming urge to draw his gun and shoot the blasted bird pass.

He glanced down at the white-ish gooey mess sliding down his jacket and jerked the slicker off, throwing it to the deck before he stormed into the wheelhouse and shut the door with a _bang_.  Safely inside he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing a calmness.  A second breath followed, then a third.  When he felt his shoulders begin to unknot he headed down the stairs to the salon, then down again to the stateroom he shared with Cody.

In the small bathroom he stripped out of the wet clothes, adding them to the small pile he'd started earlier with the wet towel.  He checked the shower, and finding the water warm again, stepped in to rinse the salt water and sand off.  He washed quickly, not trusting the warm water to last.

Turning off the faucets, Nick grabbed Cody's towel and dried himself, then headed into the stateroom to dress again.  Wearing comfortable sweats, he glanced longingly at his still rumpled bunk, then forced himself to make the small bed.  He couldn't go back to bed.  Not now.  He was wide-awake.

The chore finished, Nick headed for the galley.  Maybe a cup of coffee would help.  Then he could watch a little TV, maybe even catch a football game.

A contented smile settled on Nick's face.  Everything was going to be okay now.  He was home, and he wasn't leaving, not for anything.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In the galley, Nick glanced at the empty coffeepot and walked to the counter to make himself a pot.  He fixed the grounds, then grabbed the empty pot and hesitated.  He had to turn on the water.

"Look, I just wanna cup of coffee," he told whatever powers were after him.  "I'm just going to turn on the water and fill up this pot.  That's all.  Okay?"

Another rumble of thunder was his reply.

Nick swallowed hard.  "I hope that was a yes."

He reached out cautiously and turned on the water.  He rinsed the coffeepot out first, then began filling it.  _So far, so good._  

Leaning against the sink, Nick watched the water level rise in the pot.  Two cups… three… four–

The washer popped, water spraying up out of the base of the faucet, hitting him right in the face.  He dropped the glass pot and it crashed into the metal sink as Nick grabbed the hot water knob and turned it off.

Standing in the galley, dripping wet again, Nick Ryder fought back the urge to cry.  Maybe he _should_ have stayed in bed.

With a defeated sigh he grabbed the dishtowel, dried his face, then checked the glass pot.  A silver lining – no cracks and it was still full of water.

"Fine," Nick grumbled, pouring the contents into the Mr. Coffee and turning the machine on.  At least he was going to get his cup of coffee, and right now he really needed it.

While the coffee brewed Nick raided the refrigerator, carefully avoiding the milk, soda, and beer.  Removing two leftover chicken legs and the cheese, he made a small plate for himself, then checked on the coffee.  It was ready.

Taking down a mug, he pulled the pot free and started to pour, but a stream of coffee cascaded onto the hotplate, hissing and sputtering.

"Damn it!" Nick snapped, setting the pot down on the counter and grabbing for the washcloth to wipe the hotplate off.

Reaching under the basket, he wiped quickly, but not fast enough to avoid the last dribble of the hot liquid that fell onto the back of his hand.

"Ouch!" Nick cried, jerking his hand away while the coffee hissed tauntingly at him on the plate.  He checked the already red skin and cursed softly under his breath.

Then, with teeth grinding, Nick poured his coffee, added sugar, and returned the pot to the still slightly steaming, heckling hotplate.

Taking the coffee, chicken, and cheese, Nick retreated to the salon, where he turned the TV on and sat down at the table to eat.

After finishing off one of the chicken legs, Nick reached for the coffee cup, but hesitated, eyeing the handle with suspicion.  Given his track record, that handle was a disaster waiting to happen.  He changed tactics, grabbing the side of the cup with a firm grip and lifted it to take a sip.

"Ow-ow-ow!" he said as the heat from the cup penetrated his fingers and he was forced to set the cup down.

 _I'm cursed_ , he decided.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

He sat, staring at the cup for several long seconds before he reached out and hooked a still smarting finger around the handle and carefully maneuvered it to his lips.  He took a sip, then a longer drink, then set the cup aside.

 _That was easy.  Too easy._   They were lulling him into a false sense of security.

 _They?_ a still-rational part of his mind asked.

Whoever was stalking him every third Friday the 13th.  Freddie's ghost, or Jason's, or whoever the hell it was.

Nick looked around the salon for anything suspicious.

Nothing.

Still on guard, he started to work on the second chicken leg and the cheese while he half-heartedly watched the Broncos play.

Several minutes later he had finished the food and the coffee and nothing had happened.  The game was growing more and more interesting.  A slight smile played across Nick's lips.  Maybe he'd finally beaten this thing.  He leaned back against the cushion to enjoy the game.

Halfway through the third quarter he heard it, an odd cracking sound, followed by a loud _pop_.

Nick stood, listening intently, but didn't hear anything else.  Forehead wrinkling, he headed back to the galley, carrying his empty plate and cup.  Two steps from the bottom he heard it – drip, drip, drip, drip…

"Damn it!" the detective exploded when he saw the fractured coffeepot and the dark liquid flooding the countertop and slowly rolling off onto the floor.

Setting the plate and cup in the sink, Nick grabbed the washrag and the dishcloth and started wiping up the coffee.  He reached for the water faucets, but stopped short, remembering the earlier spray.  "Great," he muttered, turning and heading for the bathroom sink.

Stepping into the small space, Nick felt his feet begin to slip on the damp floor.  He grabbed for the sink to keep himself from falling.  Glancing into the mirror, he regarded his reflection like a picture of a doomed man.

A deep breath later he was on his feet and rinsing out the cloths for the rest of the clean-up job.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fifteen minutes later he was done and back in front of the TV, the Broncos suddenly a touchdown behind.  Nick stared at the score.  "How the hell…?"

Well, at least they were on the Raiders twenty-yard line.  He leaned forward, watching intently.

Another crash of thunder shook through the _Riptide_ , the power surge turning the television off as Elway stepped back to pass.

"No!" Nick cried, scrambling out from behind the table, hitting his knee and jamming his thigh into the sharp corner before he reached the set and turned it off, then back on again.

" _That was a-mazing!_ " the announcer's voice declared.  " _Folks that's something you only see once, maybe twice in a lifetime!_ "

"Naturally," Nick replied with a heavy sigh.  He turned off the television and dropped on to the bench cushion.  Outside the rain began to fall, the soft patter on the deck of the _Riptide_ taking on an ominous tone in Nick's ears.

He stood and walked to the windows, watching the storm.  _They_ were just waiting for an opening, waiting to get him.  "Well, it isn't gonna happen!" Nick yelled out at the dark sky.  "I'm not going out there!  And I'm not touching another faucet the rest of the day!  No coffee, no milk, no soda, no beer!  I'm not even going to flush the blasted john!  I've figured you out, and I'm _not_ going to play your game any more!"

Lightning flashed and Nick ducked slightly and took several steps back from the windows.  Maybe he'd come on a little too strong.  Maybe he should apologize?

 _Never_ , he concluded silently.  _This is war_.

Glancing out the windows again, he spotted Cody and Murray.  He squinted, trying to make out their faces better, looking for telltale bruises, but not finding anything.

The _Riptide_ rocked suddenly, nearly knocking Nick off his feet and through the window he saw Cody bolt forward, running toward the boat, his arms waving and yelling something Nick couldn't hear.

"And I'm _not_ going out there to find out what it is," he instructed himself sternly. 

"Nick! … off!"

Nick stood his ground, trying to read Cody's lips, but refusing to be coaxed outside by whatever evil power was haunting him.

"Nick!  Get… boat!"

"What?!" he yelled.

"Nick, get off the boat!"

He shook his head violently.  "No way, man.  Uh-uh.  I'm not going out there.  This is just another trick."  It probably wasn't even Cody, just some monster who looked like his partner.

"Nick, get off the boat!" Cody yelled as he reached the _Riptide_.

 _Glub_.

Nick looked around.  _What's that?_

 _Glub, glub_.

"Nick, get off my boat!  Nick!  Get off my boat before I have to shoot you!"

 _Glub, glub, glub_.

Nick swallowed hard.  He was sinking.  The _Riptide_ was sinking.  Cody's boat was sinking.

_Glub, glub… glub, glub…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The soft sounds of Jan and Dean filled the stateroom and Nick jerked awake.  Staring up at the ceiling of the cabin, he panted.  With a trembling hand he reached up to wipe the sweat off his face.  _A dream_ , he realized.  _It was just a dream… just a dream_. _A dream_.

 _"Good morning, dudes and dudettes!"_ the radio announcer called.  _"It's time to get up and hit the beach.  The surf's up and it's going to be another beautiful day in sunny southern California!"_

Nick smiled to himself.  He was safe.

_"And don't forget, it's Friday the 13th, so watch out for those ladders and black cats!"_

Nick screamed and grabbed the covers, pulling them up over his head.

"Nick?" Cody called, sitting up in his bed.  "Nick, what's wrong?"

_"That's right, Friday the 13th!  Radical, Dude!"_

"Nick…?"

 

The End


End file.
